


What's the Time Grandmother Wolfe?

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [26]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Fic, Berena as Grandmothers, Bernie Wolfe Lives, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Canon Schmanon, Cheerfully Ignoring Any and All Canon as the Lord Intended, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Future Fic, Mash-up, Massage, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Serious Injuries, Trope de Trope, Tumblr Prompt, conferences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Future Fic: Bernie Wolfe has to balance being a grandmother with being a famous trauma surgeon whose expertise is much sought after. Luckily, Grandma Serena is there to assist.
Relationships: Serena Campbell & Fleur Fanshawe, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	What's the Time Grandmother Wolfe?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Anon for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 33. Baby Fic and 55. Established Relationship.

“C’mon Grandma, time for bed.” 

Bernie stirs awake to the sensation of Serena easing her reading glasses off her face.

“I need to read this,” she says, patting her laptop, which they both know holds the text of the conference paper she’ll be delivering the day after tomorrow.

“Oh love, you’ve fallen asleep trying to read it twice already this evening. Time to call it a day, I think. You can read it tomorrow once you’ve had some sleep.”

Bernie wants to protest but she knows Serena’s right. She was up half the night trying to soothe baby Jemma, Charlotte’s daughter, who is teething. Then she had spent several hours at the conference giving presentations and demonstrations of trauma surgery techniques. She is definitely ready to sleep. And thankfully Charlotte and Emily and baby Jemma are in their own home tonight, so she won’t have to worry about teething babies disturbing her sleep. She gives Serena a half smile, then turns back to her laptop and saves the paper, then shuts down the machine.

“Good,” Serena says in obvious satisfaction when Bernie gets to her feet. “Let’s get to bed.”

“Alright, Fräulein,” Bernie says with the trademark smirk that age hasn’t dulled.

Her smirk earns her an eyeroll from her wife. “Keep your sauce to yourself, Wolfe,” she says in a light tone. 

Bernie wraps her arms around her and kisses her deeply.

When they part for air, Serena’s hair is mussed up – as is Bernie’s, although Serena would point out no one could possibly tell the difference where the trauma surgeon’s hair is concerned – and her eyes a little wild.

“Bed,” she says and Bernie smirks at the way she’s doing her best to inject some steel into her voice.

“Aye, aye, Fräulein.”

“Berenice Griselda Wolfe -” Serena begins, making Bernie wince, then chuckle.

“Always know I’m in trouble when you full name me,” she says. She holds up both hands and backs away from her wife. “I’m going, Campbell. I’m going.” She heads directly upstairs to their bedroom, feeling that to wait around to lock up, as she normally does, would be courting more trouble than she wants.

By the time Serena arrives in their room Bernie’s just sliding into bed and she can’t help casting a cheeky grin at her wife.

“Trying to butter me up, now, are we?” Serena asks.

Bernie’s about to answer when a yawn overtakes her, and she peeks over the top of the hand she’s clapped over her mouth to see her wife looking positively triumphant.

“Yes, alright,” Bernie says sleepily. “You win.”

Serena leans across the bed, one hand on the headboard, the other on Bernie’s knee. “It’s not an argument I relish winning, love,” she murmurs, then kisses her wife softly. “Just remember that I won’t hold it against you if you fall asleep before I come back out of the bathroom.”

“Mmhmm.”

Serena squeezes Bernie’s knee, then straightens up again and looks down at her with a fond smile. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, more and more every day.”

Serena gives her an even fonder smile and Bernie suspects she’s remembering the days (the bad old days, as Bernie thinks of them) when her wife struggled to say such words ( _I more than like you_ indeed, she scoffs to herself), but after Bernie’s second near-death experience, this one in Mogadishu, she feels no concern about telling Serena how she feels, sometimes more than once a day.

Bernie curls onto her side, facing Serena’s side of the bed, pulling the duvet up around her shoulders and tucking her right hand under her cheek. By the time her wife exits the bathroom, Bernie is already sound asleep, so she misses the relieved expression Serena wears when she spots her.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Two days later, Lieutenant Colonel Berenice Wolfe RAMC, retired, brings her paper at the Greater Holby area conference on trauma medicine in civilian hospitals to a close to a storm of applause that swells to cheers, whistles and stomping feet, before it eventually gives way to the excited chatter of the conference attendees.

“I see the Werewolfe has still got it, then,” says a voice close by as Bernie begins gathering her things together. She turns quickly at the old nickname, one she hasn’t heard in nearly a dozen years.

“Fleur Fanshawe!” she exclaims, surprised and delighted at seeing Serena’s diminutive friend again.

“Surprise,” says Fleur Fanshawe, sporting a wide grin.

“I am very surprised,” Bernie agrees. “Does Serena know you’re in town?”

“Who do you think tipped me the wink to be here this afternoon, Grandma Wolfe?” asks Fleur. 

Bernie rolls her eyes fondly. “Impossible woman,” she says, without clarifying whether she means her wife or her wife’s friend.

Fleur doesn’t seem to mind. “Do I get a hug, then?” she demands.

Bernie flushes, but doesn’t hesitate to open her arms and Fleurs grin seems to widen before she steps close and wraps her own arms around the trauma surgeon. 

“Alright, Fanshawe, put her down, she’s spoken for,” says a voice somewhere behind Bernie.

Fleur giggles, gives Bernie a squeeze, then lets go before stepping around the lanky blonde to hug Serena instead. “Alright, Campbell?” she asks.

“Very alright,” Serena says, directing a fond smile at Bernie, who smiles back, then resumes gathering together her things.

Once she’s packed her leather satchel, she looks up and finds Serena and Fleur watching her with matching smiles. “Dare I ask?” 

“It’s almost like she doesn’t trust us,” Fleur says with a dramatic pout.

Bernie snorts. “Serena I can trust, you, Fanshawe, I’m not so sure about.”

“Oi!” 

Serena laughs at her diminutive friend’s faux outrage. “Own up, Fleur, you got me into an awful lot of trouble, back in the day.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Fleur says in a tone that Bernie assumes is meant to be dignified but misses by a mile. 

“Of course you don’t,” she says with a smirk. She looks at Serena. “Can we at least go and get a cup of tea before you two start on the mischief and mayhem?”

“What mischief and mayhem?” demands Fleur.

Bernie shrugs, then takes the steps down off podium and starts towards the doors to the conference hall. “I’ve no idea but from the way the two of you were smiling at me just now, I’m sure there must be some in the offing.”

“I am wounded, Wolfe. Wounded.”

“Good job you’re with a doctor then, eh Fanshawe?” she tosses over her shoulder as she reaches the doors and pulls one open for her companions to step through.

Serena laughs and says, “You walked into that one, Fleur.”

Fleur rolls her eyes as she passes Bernie. “Very witty, Wolfe. Very witty.”

Bernie offers her an exaggerated bow. “Why thank you, mademoiselle.” 

They make their way to the nearest of the university’s coffeeshops and Serena gestures for Bernie and Fleur to take a seat while she gets their refreshments. 

“Can you get me a sandwich, too, please?” Bernie asks. “So long as –”

“It doesn’t have any mayonnaise,” Serena finishes with a smirk, one eyebrow raised. “Honestly, darling, how long have we known each other?”

“Long enough for you to know that without me saying it,” Bernie admits. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Serena gives her a quick peck on the lips, then nods for her to follow Fleur.

Bernie holds Serena back from joining the queue for a moment to kiss her a little more thoroughly, leaving her wife with pink cheeks, shining eyes, and a wide grin.

“Give over,” she says. “We’re in public.”

Bernie snorts. “If I can cope with initiating a public display of affection, I’m sure you can cope with being on the receiving end of one, given which of us has the more outgoing personality.”

“Yes, but you’re not the one being kissed by the famous trauma surgeon, are you?”

Bernie shakes her head. “Fine, Campbell, fine. I’ll quit molesting you in public.”

Serena chuckles, squeezes Bernie’s arm, then heads over to the counter to join the thankfully short queue.

Bernie settles down on the sofa opposite the armchair that Fleur’s chosen, sliding her satchel off her shoulder, and leaning it against the bottom of the sofa behind her legs before she leans back with a quiet groan.

“Are you alright?” Fleur asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Back’s a bit inclined to spasm,” she explains. “Age and two near-death explosions are finally catching up with me.”

“Wait, two?” Fleur asks, wide-eyed.

“You didn’t hear about that?” Bernie asks and when Fleur shakes her head, she elaborates, “July 2019. I was serving in Somalia and there was a terrorist attack on both the hospital where I was working and the nearby airport. I got caught up in the attack and nearly died. Even after I’d been treated for the worst of my injuries, though, I had no idea who I was. I could recall some things – for example, that I’m a doctor, but it was several weeks before I remembered my name, and then it was only ‘Bernie’ that I remembered. Unfortunately, one of the parts of the hospital that was damaged in the attack was the Human Resources section, so it took even longer for anyone to realise that ‘Bernie the doctor’ was actually Lieutenant Colonel Berenice Wolfe, trauma surgeon. It also didn’t help that a certain anaesthetist of my acquaintance, an ex girlfriend, saw the situation as an opportunity to try to get what she wanted – namely back together with me. She discovered which hospital I was in but withheld the information from my superior officers. She also withheld my identity from the staff of the hospital where I was still being treated. She even flew back to Holby and told Serena and Cam that I was dead.”

Bernie looks up and smiles at her wife as Serena sets down a tray holding their drinks and a sandwich for Bernie.

“You’re telling Fleur about Mogadishu, I take it?” she asks as she sits beside Bernie and passes Fleur’s coffee to her.

“Yes, since you hadn’t.” 

“We didn’t talk for long,” Serena protests. 

“We didn’t,” agrees Fleur. “I trust that the Werewolfe didn’t look too kindly on her ex’s shenanigans.”

“I did not,” Bernie agrees sternly. “Once I remembered who I was, I spoke to my CO, and he was shocked to discover that I wasn’t dead since he’d already dispatched Alex to Holby to pass on the news of my demise. He and I soon figured out Alex’s game plan, and as soon as we could, we notified Serena and Cam to let them know that I had survived the attack after all. Fortunately, I got my memory back soon enough that my CO could pass on the news before Serena and Cam got as far as arranging a memorial service. Alex was court-martialled and kicked out of the RAMC, and I decided that two near misses was two too many and retired. Serena and I got married after I came back to Holby. Well, just as soon as I was able to walk properly again.”

“You couldn’t walk?” Fleur asks, looking shocked. 

Bernie nods. “Temporary paraplegia as a result of the spinal cord injury.” She snorts. “I got hit in almost exactly the same spot as when the bloody IED blew me up a couple of years earlier. That was definitely a sign that it was time to quit while I was still alive.” She drinks half her cup of tea in a series of rapid gulps, before continuing her story. “Anyway, a side effect of being blown up twice is that I have back issues. I have to see an osteopath routinely and sometimes Serena has to massage my back until everything stops spasming. It does mean, though, that if I spend a long time on my feet that I have to be careful not to set off the spasms.”

“That must limit your time in surgery,” Fleur observes.

“Oh, I gave up surgery, except for demonstration purposes, several years ago. Serena and I both retired when we reached our sixtieth birthdays. I do quite a bit of consultancy work, helping to train trauma surgeons and advising on the creation of trauma units, but I haven’t carried out an actual surgical procedure for four years.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Only rarely, these days.” Bernie chuckles. “No one, including me, ever believed I’d be happy to retire, but by the time I did retire, I was practically ecstatic.”

“And you two are living your ‘happily ever after’?” Fleur asks, making air quotes.

“We are,” Bernie says, smiling meaningfully at Serena who, to her secret delight, blushes. “Jason and Greta have got two children, now. My daughter Charlotte and her wife have a six month old daughter. And my son Cam and his wife Morven, you remember Morven Digby?” At Fleur’s nod, Bernie continues, “Cam and Morven finally got married two years ago and she’s expecting a baby, too.”

“We’re overrun with them,” Serena adds, making Fleur laugh. 

Bernie smirks. “You love it, really, Grauntie Serena.”

Fleur frowns. “Grauntie?”

“Jason’s daughter, Guinevere, couldn’t manage ‘Great Auntie’ so invented ‘Grauntie’ instead. Just a mashed up version of the two words.”

“And do you love it?” Fleur asks. “Being a grandmother?”

“I do,” Bernie says with heartfelt sincerity. 

“Well, I’m very happy for you both,” Fleur says, her sincerity also evident.

“Thank you,” Bernie says. 

Serena nods her thanks around a mouthful of coffee.

“I should get going,” Fleur says after checking the time on her phone. “I’m meeting Abigail in less than an hour.”

“Abigail, as in Tate?” Serena asks.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re going back to Holby to work?” Bernie asks.

Fleur smirks. “That’s not why I’m seeing Abigail.”

“Ah.” Bernie cannot think of anything else to say to this.

Serena’s left hand, which has been resting on Bernie’s knee while they’ve been sitting and talking tightens a little, and she casts her wife a sideways glance and sees her frowning a little. She places her hand over Serena’s and squeezes lightly.

“Well, I’m very happy for you, Fanshawe,” Serena says, and Bernie wonders if Fleur can hear the lack of sincerity in her old friend’s words, but Fleur is busy pulling on her coat and buttoning it.

“Thank you,” she says. “It was lovely to see you both again.” She leans in and plants a kiss on Serena’s mouth that has Bernie spluttering, which makes Fleur cackle gleefully. Then she leans over, and Bernie quickly turns her head so that the diminutive woman’s lips land on her cheek not her mouth.

“Spoilsport,” Fleur says in a teasing voice, eyes dancing with mirth.

Bernie glares a little. “Get on with you, woman,” she says, waving Fleur off.

She goes, laughing again, and Bernie turns her attention to her still uneaten sandwich. She’s also waiting to see if Serena’s going to comment on Fleur’s revelation, but the brunette turns to her and asks, “More tea?”

Bernie shakes her head. “No thanks. I’m going to eat this and then I want to go home and lie down, if you don’t mind.”

Serena squeezes her knee, her expression softening. “Of course not, love.” She finishes her coffee, then asks, “Would a bath help?”

“Later,” Bernie tells her. “I really need to lie down for a bit first otherwise I suspect I wouldn’t be able to get out of the bath.”

“Want me to give you a massage?” Serena asks.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Bernie says. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Only spending time with my wonderful wife now the conference that’s been eating up her time is done.”

“Sorry,” Bernie says automatically.

Serena shakes her head, then turns and leans forward to brush her lips against Bernie’s. “I don’t mind, love. I’m always delighted when you get the chance to show off your skills and experience. And I’m always delighted when you come home to me afterwards.”

“That reminds me,” Bernie says as she swallows the last of her sandwich, then wipes her fingers on her napkin. “Professor Finnegan was muttering something about inviting me to speak at a conference in Geneva in the early Summer. I think she would only want me to give one paper.”

“Would you stay for the whole thing?” Serena asks, heaving Bernie’s satchel up from the floor and hooking the strap over her shoulder.

“Well, I thought that if I did go we might make a holiday out of it. My cousin Kate used to go there regularly before she retired, and she always said Geneva was pretty in the Summer – I think May was her favourite time to visit.”

“I take it you want to go, then?” Serena asks, sliding her arm through Bernie’s as they leave the coffeeshop and head for the car.

“Only if you want to come,” Bernie says. “You know I don’t go anywhere overseas without you Campbell. Not anymore.”

Serena nods. “We’ll discuss it again once you’ve had confirmation from Professor Finnegan,” she says.

“Okay.”

The drive home is quiet, the radio on low, and Bernie can’t help thinking about how much she relishes the companionable silences she gets to share with Serena. Not that she doesn’t love talking to her wife, of course, because she does. She loves the smooth richness of Serena’s voice very much, but she also enjoys their silences. 

When Serena pulls up outside their home (a smaller house than the one she’d lived in with Elinor and later Jason), Bernie heaves a sigh, then opens the car door and hauls herself carefully to her feet, then moves stiffly up the drive, Serena’s hand in the small of her back and Bernie’s satchel hitched over her wife’s shoulder again as its weight would definitely put her muscles into spasm if she tried to carry it herself.

“Nearly there, love,” Serena says, and helps her up the last few feet of the drive, then into the house. 

Bernie starts to remove her coat, but as soon as she’s got it unbuttoned Serena takes over, sliding it carefully off her so that she doesn’t jostle her back. 

“Leave your boots,” Serena says. “I’ll take them off for you once we’re upstairs and you’re safely on the bed.” 

“Thanks,” Bernie murmurs, and lets Serena guide her upstairs to their room.

“Do you want to get undressed?” 

“Just my blazer,” Bernie says. “For now. I fear if we try to get me out of any more clothes than that I’ll be screaming.”

“I’ve got you, love.” Serena presses her forehead to Bernie’s, then eases her out of her jacket. She puts it on the hanger while Bernie lowers herself carefully to sit on the side of the bed. Serena swiftly unzips her boots, pulling them off, then leaving them outside the bedroom door so they can be taken downstairs in due course.

“Thank you,” Bernie whispers. 

Serena leans in and kisses her, her mouth gentle and careful. “Come on then, soldier, on your stomach and I’ll massage your back.”

Bernie gives her a tired smile, then carefully lies down on her stomach. Serena’s hands are warm through the fabric of her button down shirt and that helps her to relax even before Serena begins a careful massage. 

By the time Serena’s finished Bernie feels like she’s melted into the bed and doubts she’ll ever be able to move again.

“Okay?” Serena asks when she sits back on her heels.

“More than,” Bernie murmurs, her voice muffled by the pillow into which she’s pressed her face. “Might sleep for a bit now, ‘f that’s ‘kay?”

Serena leans down to press a kiss to the side of her head. “It’s more than okay if that’s what you need. If you’re not up before then, I’ll come and get you when dinner’s ready.”

“‘kay.” Bernie can feel that her breathing has slowed down and she’s on the verge of sleep, but she does manage to add, “Love you, Campbell.”

Serena chuckles. “Love you too, soldier.”

Bernie’s only vaguely aware of Serena moving about the room and is asleep before her wife leaves the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/632650841645514752/still-loving-your-mash-ups-so-can-i-get-33-baby).


End file.
